


Maybe, someday

by itzteegan



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Letters, Loss, Mass Effect 2, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Post-Horizon (Mass Effect), Reconciliation, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 23:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzteegan/pseuds/itzteegan
Summary: Kaidan composes a message to Shepard post-Horizon as he ponders the implications of her return and everything he's been through in the intervening two years. Her reply is unexpected, but comforting.
Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard, Kaidan Alenko/Shepard
Kudos: 20





	Maybe, someday

**Author's Note:**

> So I was playing through Mass Effect 2 and accidentally put myself with Kaidan because it was super late and brain no work good. I figured fuck it, I'll just break up with him and get with my alien of choice, but then I got that message from him after Horizon and ... yeah, I can't be mean to NPC's. Fuck. Yes, I started a new save for romancing the aliens to avoid breaking up with Kaidan. But hey, at least this fic resulted from it, right?

_Shepard,_

_I’m sorry for what I said back on Horizon. I spent two years pulling myself back together after you went down with the Normandy. It took me a long time to get over my guilt for surviving and move on. I’d finally let my friends talk me into going out for drinks with a doctor on the Citadel. Nothing serious, but trying to let myself have a life again, you know?_

_Then I saw you, and everything pulled hard to port. You were standing in front of me, but you were with Cerberus. I guess I really don’t know who either of us is anymore. Do you even remember that night before Ilos? That night meant everything to me … maybe it meant as much to you. But a lot has changed in the last two years and I can’t just put that aside._

_But please be careful. I’ve watched too many people close to me die – on Eden Prime, on Virmire, on Horizon, on the Normandy. I couldn’t bear it if I lost you again. If you’re still the woman I remember, I know you’ll find a way to stop these Collector attacks. But Cerberus is too dangerous to be trusted. Watch yourself._

_When things settle down a little … maybe … I don’t know. Just take care._

_Kaidan_

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed as he read over the message, checking to make sure there were no errors before he pressed send. He waited a moment and then cursed himself, leaning back in his chair as he pondered if this was a mistake or not. He’d composed and then subsequently deleted several messages already, unable to decide exactly what he wanted to say to her. His first had been just as angry as when he was on Horizon, accusatory and scathing, the kind that would have ensured that anything between them was done. And, perhaps for a moment, he would have been alright with that. But after he wrote it, he gave himself some time to cool down and in that time, he realised that if things were going to be over, he didn’t want to end it that way. That wasn’t him, that wasn’t how he wanted to leave things.

And so he’d started another message, but that one was so cold and clinical it didn’t even sound like him. The next one was far too whiney, he felt, and the one after that was dripping with so much sarcasm and passive aggressiveness it was about as bad as the first. It was after that one that he’d shaken his head, gotten up, and headed to the gym. It was a small room, barely even serviceable with only some free weights and a punching bag, but it was the only the latter that he needed. Into that he poured his anger, his frustration, his hurt and his pain and his grief and his guilt. By the time he finished and grabbed a shower, he felt … empty. Like he’d poured out every negative emotion that had been roiling in him for the last two years and he was finally able to relax and let something else fill him instead.

When he finally sat down once more to write a message – still not entirely convinced that such a message was necessarily a wise action to take, yet even so he didn’t want to leave things on the same note as Horizon – he found his thoughts drifting back to that night before Ilos. A lot had happened to the both of them since being stationed on the Normandy, and much was yet to come, but that night they weren’t simply commanding officer and subordinate. They were just two people who felt deeply for each other and who wanted to take the time before a dangerous and possibly suicidal mission to express that in the most physical way possible. He remembered well the feel of her skin against his, her lips against his own, her biotics flaring in response to his actions and how his did the same. But even more than that, he remembered the way she whimpered his name, how she clung to him, when she looked in his eyes and he felt like he looked into her very soul. And how when afterwards, when they held each other, they whispered small sentiments to each other, confirming the feelings that they had just demonstrated. The carnal act was only an extension of how they felt, and while he was far from a blushing virgin, he’d never felt quite so vulnerable before. It was both scary and exhilerating and he never wanted to give that up.

They’d never planned on an attack on the Normandy of that particular magnitude. He didn’t like leaving her behind as he boarded the escape pod, but she’d stubbornly insisted, telling him that she was just fetching Joker and that she’d be right behind them. He’d believed her, too, and so when he saw the Normandy torn apart, his heart only sank because of the attachment he’d had to that particular ship. It wasn’t until later, until Joker had stumbled out of an escape pod alone, swearing up a storm and telling them how Shepard had gotten sucked out into space that Kaidan was even aware anything was amiss. He barely remembered the moments following the news, only that he looked back up toward the stars with a peculiar, hollow feeling in his chest.

She’d been gone. _Gone._ At first he was numb, unsure how he even felt. But the rest of the grief soon followed and it took everything in him to maintain his composure during her symbolic funeral. There was nothing to bury, after all, but she was a decorated member of the Alliance, the first human Spectre, and the saviour of the Citadel. Truly, she deserved nothing less. He’d managed to keep it together through the ceremony, just long enough to make it back to his assigned quarters on the Citadel before he broke down. The sobs had been wrenched from him whether he wanted them to or not, clenching in his gut and twisting his throat as the grief poured from him until he was wrung dry, raw and sore, collapsed against his bed, still wearing his dress uniform that was now wrinkled beyond any measure. In that moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hold her just as he did that first night, if only one last time, and to tell her what she meant to him.

It was with that mindset that he’d finally composed the message he ended up sending. While it wasn’t sappy or romantic, he poured his heart and soul into it. He didn’t discount the anger and the disbelief, but now it was tempered and he was able to convey that while he’d felt that way, that wasn’t the only thing he felt. While two years had passed and he’d done his best to move on since then, he still felt deeply for her. That doctor he’d shared drinks with, while perfectly nice, just hadn’t clicked. It ended up feeling more like he was hanging out with a potential new friend than anything else, which he supposed was at least a start. But then he’d been stationed on Horizon …

He realised, then, that he truly hadn’t healed like he thought he had. Sure he no longer woke up in a cold sweat, no longer had the recurring nightmare of reaching for her only to have her drift off into the blackness of space, a shocked and betrayed expression frozen on her face. He didn’t constantly isolate himself, he communicated and went out with friends on a regular basis, hell it had been at least six months since anyone had eyed him as they asked him how he was doing as if they were carefully watching him for any kind of crack forming. Seeing her, though, had brought up everything he’d felt before and compounded them a thousand times over. And after how he’d left things on Horizon, he knew he couldn’t let that be the last thing that he ever said to her.

And so he’d calmly composed the message, reread it for clarity and to catch any errors, and sent it. He wondered if perhaps it was the wisest course of action, if he should have waited to talk to her in person or if maybe they needed more time between contact. Fuck it, he decided, rising from his desk before settling into his bed for the night. He had an early shift the next day, and there was no use dwelling on it. As he drifted off, he offhandedly wondered if he would get a reply, but he fell asleep before he could consider the possible implications that such a reply might carry.

+

It was a few days after he’d sent the message and while he would have liked to say he’d forgotten all about it, that would have been a lie. While it wasn’t the most pressing issue that stayed with him, it lingered constantly in the back of his mind. Had she received it? Did she actually read it? He wouldn’t have entirely blamed her had she just immediately deleted it after seeing who it was from. But if she had read it … would she respond? She had indicated she was busy, on some important missions, but how busy was that exactly? Would she have enough downtime to even check her messages? While these thoughts didn’t consume him, they popped into his head every now and then, necessitating a shake of his head before he returned to his duty.

When he returned to his quarters that day, he saw his personal console blinking to indicate a new, unread message. Frowning slightly, he set aside his helmet and armour and sat at his desk, pulling it up to see what it was. The moment his eyes rested on the sender, however, a thrill shot through his body and he had to take a deep breath before he read it.

_Kaidan,_

_I didn’t expect to hear from you after Horizon, but I admit, I am glad. We didn’t have much time and there’s … so much I wanted to tell you. That I needed to tell you. I’m sorry I haven’t replied before now, but between missions and wanting to make sure this says what I need it to …_

_It feels almost strange to apologise for dying, but I can’t help but feel guilt over what I put everyone through. It certainly wasn’t my intention. I always thought that if I died in the field, it would be in an actual battle, but there I was, in the vacuum of space, hurtling toward a planet in a freefall. I don’t remember much, but the last thing I remember consciously thinking of was you. I didn’t want to leave you, not after what we finally shared. Not that I thought our lives would be smooth sailing, exactly but … I didn’t expect it to end like that._

_But then it didn’t end. Not that I knew it for the longest time. Two years. Two whole years. When I woke up, the facility I was in was under attack and I had to shoot my way out. I barely even had a chance to acclimate to the reality of not being dead before I was thrown into the fray again. My head was spinning when I was finally allowed a chance to breathe. Cerberus had always been the bad guy, I didn’t even want to work with them at all. They wanted me to investigate a missing colony and the Illusive Man said that after that, I could leave if I so wished and I figured no harm in looking into something like that. If the evidence showed there was nothing more I could do, then that would be that. Truth be told, I was hoping that was the case, that it was a wild goose chase and afterward I could leave and make something of this new life._

_But then I got there and … Kaidan, I couldn’t leave. I don’t like them, don’t agree with their methods and ideology, but it appears that somehow in the intervening two years, everyone has forgotten about the threat the Reapers present. Most seem to outright deny they even exist. Even the Council that we saved! How can they have forgotten? If anyone else treated the Reaper threat with any level of seriousness, I would be with them. Instead, Cerberus is the only organisation that is doing something, and so I find myself in league with them. At least for now. I don’t trust them, not in the slightest. But if no one else is going to do anything, what choice do I have? The Reapers aren’t going to just go away simply because we don’t think about them. The Council at least reinstated my Spectre status and I’m officially no longer listed as deceased, so that’s a little extra wiggle room outside of Cerberus – at least, as long as I only work within the Terminus systems. If I have to go outside of it, well … I suppose I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. I don’t want to make things more difficult for Anderson, but I’ll do what I have to in order to address the Reaper threat._

_I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble on. I can’t even tell you that much, unfortunately, because of the classified nature of our operations. But rest assured, when it comes to Cerberus, I keep one eye open at all times. Even though they’re the only ones funding me and my crew, it doesn’t mean I trust them. Especially because when I first woke up and got my wits about me, they refused to give me hardly any information on my old crew, especially you. My first conversation with the Illusive Man, that was my first question, about where you were and how I could contact you. He refused me the possibility. And when I was at the Citadel, I asked Anderson, but of course since I’m no longer Alliance and am with Cerberus, he couldn’t tell me anything either. I won’t lie … that hurt. Knowing that you were out there and I couldn’t contact you, didn’t know how to. Anderson, at least, I understand his reasoning. I still don’t understand the Illusive Man’s. I suppose he wanted to keep me as isolated as possible, only giving me access to friends he personally approved of._

_Well, fuck that. And fuck him._

_The fact of the matter is, Kaidan … I miss you. I miss being around you, talking with you, laughing with you. I miss that night before Ilos, the moments we shared, the things we confided in each other. It’s constantly been on my mind since I woke up, wondering if I would ever even get a chance to see you, to talk to you. Sometimes I wondered if that was wise, if perhaps you had moved on with your life and didn’t need me crashing back into it. But, well … didn’t really get much of a choice._

_Should we have had a reunion, that’s not how I would have wanted it to happen, and I can’t lie. It hurt. I don’t blame you for your reaction, not in the slightest. Were I in your position, I would have reacted the same, more or less. I don’t blame you for your anger and I’m sorry I’m a source of pain. What hurt, though, was that you didn’t trust me. We’ve been through a helluva lot together, you know me, you know my priorities and my values. I know at face value this doesn’t look right, I guess I just would have hoped you would have looked past and seen that even though two years has passed for you, it hasn’t been that way for me. I’m the same person I was the day that I died. That includes what I believe in, what I want to work towards … and what I feel about you._

_This situation is all kinds of messed up, I know. And I have a lot of work to do if I’m going to stop the Collectors and the Reapers. But once this is over, I think I’d like to sit down and talk with you. I’m not sure where that talk will take us, but … I think we both need it. For closure, if nothing else. But I hope … I hope for more. Maybe that’s foolish, but I still hope._

_Ruby_

Biting the inside of his lip, Kaidan leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the surface of the desk. She had signed the message with her first name, something she rarely did. She was always and forever Shepard, only in the privacy of her quarters when no one else was present was she ever just Ruby. Their interactions thus far, while not exactly ideal, it did give him a little glimmer of hope at being able to glimpse the woman he knew and loved. Now that he did know a little bit more of what happened to her, that she had truly only recently woken up, that she had immediately asked about him and wanted to contact him … that she still felt the same way about him … circumstances still kept them apart, would keep them apart for the foreseeable future, but this message was a gift, a boon imparted by Ruby herself. He definitely wanted to have that talk, whenever it would happen, so they both could have a chance to sort everything out with each other.

Perhaps, even … they could still be together and make it work, despite their different positions at the present time. He wouldn’t count on it, but he wouldn’t write it off all the same. They could never go back to the way things had been, back to that night before Ilos. But that didn’t mean there was no chance at all to have a future. After all, things always changed, and change wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Even with everything that had happened, despite the pain and the hurt and the grief and the anger and the numbness and every single thing he’d felt and suffered for the past two years, he couldn’t help but want to give them a chance to work things out. And even if they decided to leave things as they were, the closure offered would be a helluva lot more than he’d gotten before.

So when he rose from his desk and stripped out of his clothes for a shower, he felt hopeful about the future and what it might bring. Maybe it would bring Ruby back to him, maybe it wouldn’t, but there was only one way to find out.

Maybe. Someday.


End file.
